Page 25 of Right Man, Right Time
Yup, I said it.
So hot.
Liketake me to the hardware store to purchase an A/C unit for my nether regionhot.
And broad. Huge actually. I didn’t notice it until he was in my dorm yesterday, soaking up what little space I had.
Tall.
Muscular.
Just overall, a very large presence of body mass and attractiveness.
And he just so happened to leave his sweatshirt at my place yesterday, so I might have tried it on, you know, just to see how things fit. It was the most luxurious piece of clothing I’ve ever put on my body. Oversized, it came down to my thighs and smelled like high-end cologne that makes women weak in the knees.
Good thing I’m immune to it.
There are no weak knees where I’m concerned.
I can admit when someone is sexy, and he is. And I can admit that wearing his sweatshirt felt nice because it did. But I also know where to draw the line, and no way in hell will I be mixing any business with pleasure.
For one, the man seems complicated. Let’s face it, he’s looking for a pretend girlfriend to make an old girlfriend jealous. He probably still has feelings for said old girlfriend, and that’s a tangled web I want nothing to do with. It’s messy, and I don’t do messy.
Also, he’s on a different path than I am. It seems that playing professional hockey sucks all the time from your life. Even though I have school and an internship, I still very much like having fun. I like to go out and party and have a good time. I’m pretty sure his good time is staying at home and fiddling around with knitting needles—this has not been confirmed, just an assumption.
And finally, I’m not sure we have a lot in common besides an appreciation for gym equipment. You can only talk about your favorite kind of racking system so many times. Therefore, to sum the last few paragraphs up, there is no way, on my two perfect nipples, that I will ever find myself in the arms of Silas Taters—unless it’s for business.
Glad we’re on the same page.
I glance at the picture, focusing longer on his abs. His regimen must be insane to have such little body fat. It’s hard to hold back my smile because in all honesty, I feel like I’m getting the better end of the deal.
“My, oh my, what do we have here?” Ross asks, coming into my cubicle space. He picks up the picture and stares at it for a few seconds. “I don’t think this is suitable for work. At least, that’s the angle Candace will take to get you to remove this brain-melting picture.”
“Ew, do you really think she will?”
Ross raises his brow. “Please, she’s probably already figuring out a way to tell you what she saw last night was an illusion and not reality.”
“You’re probably right.” I reach into my purse and pull out a stack of photos. “Good thing I printed multiple copies yesterday.”
Ross chuckles and shakes his head at the same time. “God, I love you so much.”
I wave the pictures in front of my face. “Always come prepared. You never know what the tyrant Candace might throw at you during any given day.”
“Did I hear my name?” Candace says, appearing out of nowhere.
Good God!
Evil!
Who does that? Who can hear their name and quickly appear out of thin air?
Witches, that’s who.
Tacking on a pleasant facade, I say, “Why, yes, Candace, you did.”
“Hopefully all good things.” She offers me a smile that seems more condescending than anything.
Good things . . . I’m not sure I can utter one nice thing about the woman. Even her precious Post-it Notes are an irritating color. Seafoam green? Always go with neon. Post-it Notes are meant to be SEEN, not used as an aesthetic.
